


Don't Say It

by AwfulLoneliness



Category: Naruto
Genre: Blood and Gore, Founders Week 2020, Gen, Gore, Hallucinations, I was going thru stuff when I wrote this and you can tell, This isn't a happy birthday
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-23
Updated: 2020-10-23
Packaged: 2021-03-09 06:20:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27159232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AwfulLoneliness/pseuds/AwfulLoneliness
Summary: All the people Hashirama loves is here to wish him a happy birthday today, even his best friend!Except his best friend had died a couple of months ago, when Hashirama ran a sword through his heart.
Comments: 6
Kudos: 20
Collections: Founders Week 2020





	Don't Say It

**Author's Note:**

> The brightest prompt got the darkest fic. Por que? No hay por que.  
> There is GORE ahead so be careful.

Hashirama opened his eyes to a dark and empty room.

The sun hadn't risen yet and he briefly considered sleeping in as a birthday present for himself, but he rolled out of bed before the thought was fully formed.

He got dressed as he walked down the corridor, his feet completely silent against the floorboards. He was equally as silent as he threw the door to the kitchen open to find Mito with their breakfast almost ready.

“Good morning, husband,” she said, filling two bowls with rice. There was a pause, an almost imperceptible moment of doubt before she spoke again, while Hashirama was thinking  _ don't don't don't.  _ “Happy birthday.”

“Happy birthday, Hashirama,” Madara said from the corner of the room, his voice hoarse from screaming.

“Thank you,” Hashirama kissed Mito.

Touka fell into step with him as soon as he entered the Hokage Tower.

“Hey, Hashirama, there are the reports from the tactical division. These three went as planned so you can just stamp them and be done, but read this one carefully,” she said, wagging a scroll in the air. She doubted for a second as her hand reached for his shoulder to squeeze it, while Hashirama was thinking  _ don't don't don't.  _ “Happy birthday, cousin.”

“Happy birthday, Hashirama,” Madara said from the threshold of an office, mud and blood caking his face.

“Thank you,” Hashirama pulled Touka into a half hug.

There was a knock on Hashirama's office door and Tobirama entered without waiting to be called in.

“Have you eaten, anija?” he asked.

“Not yet. Is it noon already?”

“Yes, it is. I've brought food from home, if you'd like to share.”

Hashirama accepted and they decided to have lunch sitting on the roof of the Tower. The weather was nice and the view was beautiful from there,

“So, anija,” Tobirama said with a pained smile when they were finished eating, and Hashirama thought  _ don't don't don't.  _ “Happy birthday.”

“Happy birthday, Hashirama,” Madara said from his spot behind them, water running down so freely from his hair, his clothes, his body that it streamed down the rooftop in rivulets.

“Thank you,” Hashirama threw an arm around Tobirama's shoulders.

Hashirama was calling it a day when he found Hikaku at the front desk.

“Ah, Hokage-sama, good evening. I'm delivering some last-minute paperwork,” Hikaku said with a sheepish smile, and then he doubted for a second before opening his mouth. Hashirama thought  _ don't don't don't. _ “Have a good night.”

He turned around after bowing, and Hashirama sighed in relief.

“So rude, Hikaku. Won't you wish Hashirama a happy birthday?” Madara said from his seat on the desk, blood flowing down from his mouth with every word.

“Good night to you too,” Hashirama called out to Hikaku.

Hashirama was sitting alone under a tree in his garden, enjoying the chilly autumn night with his eyes closed.

Breathe in, breathe out.

“Are you feeling unwell today, Hashirama?” a voice hoarse from screaming asked. The fallen leaves crunched as someone sat in front of him.

Breathe in, breathe out.

“You won't be able to ignore me forever, you know.”

Breathe in, breathe out.

Hashirama opened his eyes to a dark garden. He wasn't alone. Madara was sitting in front of him. Mud caked his face and armor, water made his hair stick to his neck.

Hashirama thought he did it for the village. He couldn't let Madara destroy it.

“You know. You don't care.” Blood fell from Madara's eyes and the corners of his mouth, and his skin was ashen and blotched.

Breathe in, breathe out.

Hashirama wanted to be left alone.

Madara laughed. Every time his shoulders shook blood flowed from the hole on his armor, right over his heart.

Breathe in, breathe out.

Hashirama begged to be left alone.

Madara licked his lips, smearing blood and mud all over them, and leaned forward until his cheek was brushing Hashirama's. The smell of decay became stronger.

“How could I leave you when I'm not really here?” he whispered. His breath, cold like winter wind, caressed Hashirama's ear and blood splattered from his heart onto Hashirama's robes. “Happy birthday, Hashirama.”

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote it around my birthday. I was missing my mom something awful and I dreamt of her, and the sads led to the dark and that's how I ended here.


End file.
